A Fraction of Your Smile (A Fragment of Your Mind)
by justanotherclassic
Summary: It all begins with her bent over the side of the Jolly Roger, unfurling the contents of her stomach into the dark waters below. Emma is pregnant, and now the future begins. (Fluffy pregnancy/baby fic set sometime after the end of season 5.)


**Note:** _After the angst of 5a, I decided to write some fluffy Captain Swan future baby fic. Title is shamelessly stolen from the song "That Would be Enough" from Hamilton. I may have listened to a lot of that and "Dear Theodosia" while writing this fic._

* * *

It all begins with her bent over the side of the Jolly Roger, unfurling the contents of her stomach into the dark waters below.

(It actually all beings with her bent over the side of the Jolly Roger for a very different reason, but that is neither here nor there.)

"Come on now, Swan, feel better. I may love you, but no captain, let alone a pirate captain, can be seen bedding a woman who can't handle the sea," Killian says in jest, his voice light and teasing as he rubs circles on her back in sympathy. Between gasps of air, she threatens to instead vomit on him, or at the very least, throw him overboard. She doesn't consider this funny at all, and spends the rest of the trek back to land dry heaving.

She isn't actually seasick. She realizes this as soon as they dock to ship and she is tucked into bed, the waves of nausea still rolling over her. It doesn't take long to count the missing days since her last period. During stages of intense stress - also known as "Tuesday" to Storybrooke's Savior - her cycle would usually be delayed, but never this long. Months have passed since she last bled, and she almost certainly would have noticed had she not been consistently distracted by villains trying their best to wreak havoc on her town or by a certain pirate doing his best to make her enjoy the "quiet" moments.

She is pregnant.

Her stomach churns at the thought of confessing this very real and permanent life change to her pirate boyfriend. She recalls his joke about not being able to be seen with a seasick woman, and though he was clearly joking, fear ripples through her. Though he promises to follow her everywhere - across all realms, time and space - and to _always_ fights for her, she isn't exactly sure if this is what he meant. They had vaguely discussed this life, picket fences and all that it entails, but saying you want something is very different than following through.

She has long ago since forgiven Neal for abandoning her. He had his reasons, this she knows, knew her place in the grand scheme of things. Still, his abandonment created a deep chasm in her ability to place her trust in others. Forgiveness doesn't take away the consequences, this one being her shattered heart. It took such a long time for her to recover, and she doesn't want to experience that pain again, especially now that she has what can be considered her "happy ending." Their happy ending. _Their future._

Killian has spent an inordinate amount of time over the years attempting to break down her walls, worming his way into her heart. A few realms, multiple deaths, a couple of failed attempts at "true love's kiss,"and a successful one later, he succeeded brilliantly. He gave up a ship for her, traveled across time and realms for her, died for her. He loves her. The objective side of her knows this, but the side of her who remembers being abandoned, pregnant in prison is terrified. Killian is a pirate, once a naval lieutenant, and his heart belonged to sea far longer than it has been hers. Though he has harbored himself in Storybrooke, he always had the ability to leave. A child grounds him here, forever tethers him to her side. Does he truly want that?

Emma is afraid to find out.

 _But that's not all, is it?_

Because it really isn't. Because, yes, her trust issues mean that she is terrified he is going to walk away, but it goes deeper than that. It always goes different than that. Because now the future is real. Now, she has something (someone) else to lose.

The thought chills her to the bone.

Emma's heart is pounding in her chest, "Killian, are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I'm not simply marrying you because I don't wish for our offspring to be born a bastard. That is just the reason behind why I'm marrying you at this moment," he says as they are on their way to find a Justice of the Peace, or at the very least, someone with the authority to legally wed them. When she told him over dinner, the words and explanations clumsily slipping from her mouth, he sat silently for a moment, then kissed her, and then asked her to marry him immediately. Immediately, as in that night. His reaction was not the one she expected, and though Killian is always one for surprises, the fact that her pregnancy is driving him to marry her now gives her slight pause.

(She wants to be with him for the rest of her life, but this is not how she expected it to go.)

"I just don't want you -"

He cuts her off.

"Swan, I have never been more sure of any decision in my life. I would have done it much soon, but it's not my fault that this bloody town doesn't have any rings that can match your worth. I've already requested Henry for his blessing in in taking your hand, which he gave quite enthusiastically, if I must say. The lad's even been helping me plan the proposal. Believe me, this is far from a rash decision."

Leave it to Killian to turn a seemingly hurried gesture into something grand.

"My dad is going to kill you for not asking for his blessing too, you know."

Leave it to her to ruin a perfectly romantic moment.

"You're father's already killed me, love, and I believe I came through just fine," he responds with a cheeky grin, and _oh god, she's marrying him_. "Now will you please marry me?"

Emma manages to call Henry and her parents once they find someone to marry them - a former friar named Laurence because everything in her life is a fucking fictional joke - telling them to meet her and Killian at the docks. She doesn't mention the exact reason for the sudden elopement, and her family doesn't ask. She'll tell them about the baby later, allow the wedding to sink in before dropping another surprise.

Upon arrival to docks, they are surprised not only see her parents and son waiting, but also Regina, Robin, and Belle. (Gold is conspicuously - and thankfully - absent.) Regina mutters something about being with Henry when Emma called, and Robin announces that Killian needs a best man, and it has to be him since Dave will be the one giving his daughter away. Belle ties a navy scarf around Emma's neck advising, "I want this back, so it's borrowed and blue."

"You need something old," her mother says as she slides the ring from her finger and folds it into Emma's hands, "I had always planned to give it to you anyway."

Emma feels a flutter in her stomach - the result of something (someone) definitely new - but diverts and claims that she is wearing a near brand of nail polish...which is true, but not what she had in mind. Of course, none of this is really what she had in mind when she envisioned her wedding.

She didn't envision the former Evil Queen conjuring up a bouquet of flowers. She didn't envision Belle - yes, _Beauty and the Beast_ Belle - pulling said former Evil Queen to the side to act as bridesmaid. She didn't envision to have her crying mother standing beside her beaming son. She didn't envision Robin Hood winking at her from the best man's place as her father - _her actual father_ \- walks her down a pretend aisle, looking gallant as he tries to hold back his own tears. She certainly didn't envision Captain Hook waiting at the end of the aisle, a wide smile on her face.

But that is how it happens, and she couldn't be happier.

"Henry, there is something we need to talk about." Emma has rehearsed this speech many times. To a degree, it is almost as terrifying as telling Killian, because this is her son, her no-longer-only-child son, her no-longer-only-child son that she gave up. She knows all too well the unbidden feelings of jealousy that can arrive with the birth of the new sibling. She wants to do everything possible to reassure Henry that he won't be forgotten or cast aside.

"You're pregnant."

"Wha- how did you know?" Surprise overtakes her, but then her heart deflates at the realization that Henry somehow knew before she could even tell him. This was supposed to their moment together.

He shrugs. "I overheard Mom theorizing with Robin about why you and Killian eloped so quickly."

She's going to kill Regina. "So, kid, what do you think about it?"

"I mean, I now have confirmation that and Killian have been having sex, so that's kind of gross," Henry is teasing her right now, and she hates it and loves it all the same, "But the baby means that you found your happy ending. Every good story ends with a wedding and a baby, and now you have both. So I'm happy for you."

"So you're really okay with this?"

"If I said I wasn't would you buy me a new X-Box? Because if that is the case, I'm not happy at all." Emma doesn't know if she is impressed or terrified of the ease in which her son can manipulate and charm her. "But really, Mom, I'm happy. Really, really happy. I'm going to be the best big brother ever."

She brings her son into a hug, revels in his warmth and his love. "Yeah, kid, you will be."

Her parents' reaction is a sight.

Mary Margaret cries, then hugs her, then Killian, then cries some more. It's the happy kind of tears, but she apologizes all the same.

"So that's why you robbed us of hosting a royal wedding," her father teases as he brings her into a hug. (The small blessings of an unplanned pregnancy, Emma thinks.)

Neal is too young to really know what it going on, so he simply claps.

Emma is not accustomed to this level of acceptance, this level of love. The first time she was pregnant, she was alone, abandoned, and in jail. This time she is adulated, supported, and loved. She hopes it never goes away.

Okay, Emma hopes that this level of love would go away a little bit because it is somewhat smothering. Scratch somewhat, it incredibly smothering.

Because if Killian isn't following her around making sure if she is fine and fed and rested, it is her mother or her father or half of the goddamn town. Gossip spreads like wildfire in Storybrooke, and news of her pregnancy was not spared from this fate. It's terrible and awful and more often than not she just wants to hide from everyone and everything.

But she can't. Because she's the motherfucking Savior and therefore the most popular person in town and everyone must have an opinion.

(Sometimes she hates this place. It's home, but who doesn't hate home every now and then?)

Granny scolds her when she orders anything too unhealthy. Grumpy warns her of all the terrible infant deaths he's read about on the internet. Archie tries to discuss pre - and post -natal effects of anything on a baby's psychology. Belle brings her an assortment of books.

Gold just stares.

It sends a shiver down her spine, her hand instinctively drawn to her belly. He is far from the evil manipulator her once was, mellowing with time, acceptance, and the presence of Belle, but Emma doesn't like the way he looks at her and the swell of her stomach - or her husband for that matter.

"It appears that another product of true love will once again be gracing Storybrooke," he speaks evenly, but there is an air of a threat underlying his words, "you best be prepared for what's in store."

She seriously considers driving over the town line and facing all that it entails just so Dr. Whale - _Dr. Frankenstein_ \- wouldn't be the one to deliver her baby.

Henry reminds her that Nurse Ratched is also around, as if that is any better.

What is it with this town and its mildly evil healthcare professionals?

They paint the nursery blue like the sea and hang intricate maps on the walls.

"What if it's a girl?" her mother asks while visiting, and Emma shrugs. Whatever her child turns out to be, it will love the sea either way.

(She does not tell her mother that she is convinced that it is going to be a boy. She can feel it in her bones, can envision a small boy with golden curls and large blue eyes.)

(Killian says the pregnancy hormones are clouding her judgement, because they are most certainly having a daughter. She makes him sleep on the couch that night, because if he wants pregnancy hormones, he will get pregnancy hormones. )

It's a girl.

(Killian does not refrain from delivering a smart-ass "I told you so.")

Because _of course_ Storybrooke would need saving when she goes into labor.

Because _of course_ whoever is threatening the town this time would put a noticeable distance between her and the father of her child on the day when said child decides to announce its presence to the world.

Because _of course_ she would trapped in the hospital, her body feeling as if she is being split in two, while Killian and David and God knows who else are somewhere on the other side of town fighting a demon.

Her mother dabs the sweat from her brow, promises that Killian will be here soon and reminds her that it's not like he chose to be blindsided by some monster. Henry does his best at giving her a pep talk, and holds her hand tightly when the waves of pain wash over her. Dr. Frankenwhale cares not for her desire to have the father of her child by her side, and urges her to push, cracking jokes about being thrown into a wall.

(Emma isn't sure who she hates more at the moment - Whale or the demon.)

The demon wins out, because she is holding a sleeping infant in her arms by the time Killian rushes in her room, bruised and bloody, and looking so utterly heartbroken at the realization that he missed the birth of his daughter.

"I failed you," he whispers, voice thick with guilt. Emma knows he's going to add this moment to the list of perceived transgressions that were not actually his fault. Her heart, previously so full, breaks for a moment. She feels the tiny pinpricks in the corner of her eyes, and silently damns her hormones.

"You didn't. You're here. She's here. We're all okay. " He doesn't look like he believes her. She adjusts herself, reaches a free hand out to draw him near. "Now, get over here. There's someone you should meet."

He shuffles - limps, really - to her side, eyes apprehensive, and winces when he leans down to sit beside her on the bed.. Emma wonders just how badly he was hurt in the effort to get to her. Killian's covered in a mix of dirt, blood, and grime, and carries himself in a bone weary sort of way that implies far more than just guilt weighing on his shoulders. His jacket is torn, hair disheveled, and there is a nasty gash across his brow. Somewhere outside of the room she can hear a nurse arguing with someone - her father? - about hospital protocol and how one shouldn't handle a newborn while covered in blood and filth. Emma resolves that if anyone tries to get between her family in this moment, he or she will find out the true power of the Storybrooke's Saviour.

"Do you want to hold her?"

His eyes widen, but he nods silently. Emma watches Killian intently as he secures the infant in his arms, taking precious care to avoid touching her with his hook. The tears are back, and this time she doesn't care because right now Killian is looking at their daughter with such a look wonder that it is almost magical. (It is magical.) _The future is now,_ drums in the back of her mind, and she wonders why she spent so much time running away from this moment.

"She's wearing a hat."

She doesn't know what she expected him to say the first time he saw their newborn, but that wasn't it. Leave it to her pirate to still continue to surprise her. "Yeah, I hear babies come with them."

"This realm will never cease to amaze me."

They both start laughing at the absurdity of it all, the sort of laughter that is not born of humor, but rather from the overwhelming nature of feeling too many emotions at once. He sobers a bit, leans over to kiss her, but the movement and noise jostles their daughter from her slumber, and a loud cry erupts across the room.

"Did I - is she -" He looks pained, and Emma can tell he's thinking this is just another thing he's hurt and failed.

Emma reaches out and touches him, "She's fine. She's supposed to cry. It means she's okay. It means she's alive."

For now, that is enough.

"You named her Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

" _You_ named _her_ Elizabeth."

"Yes! What's the big deal? Elizabeth is a perfectly fine name."

"Say her full name."

"Elizabeth Swan-Jo- _oh_ …"

(Emma accepts that fairy tales and fiction will forever collide with her reality, but it still shocks her when the latest collision comes in the form of her newborn daughter.)

They take to calling her Eliza, because Emma refuses to acknowledge that she unconsciously named her daughter after a _Pirates of the Caribbean_ character, and Killian finds the nickname "Lizzie" to be something of an insult. ("The most magnificent treasure in any realm will not be called Lizzie, Swan.") Henry is still dubious that the name wasn't intentional, despite her insistence that it absolutely wasn't. Her father reminds her that they could simple change her name, but Emma balks at the idea, because changing her name would be admitting that her daughter was a _Pirates of the Caribbean_ character, and she absolutely wasn't.

(Years later, Eliza would be the one complaining. " _Do you know how many people ask me if I know Jack freaking Sparrow?"_ )

Ever since she came to Storybrooke and the first curse, the worst curse, was broken, Emma has always had difficulties balancing her reality with her parents' expectations from the Enchanted Forest. Eliza's arrival is no exception to that tenuous balancing act. They propose hosting a Name Day party for their granddaughter, similar to the one they held for little Neal when he was born. (Time Travel portals excluded.)

"But everyone already knows her name," Emma whines in futility. She already knows she is going to give in. She already took away their dream of a lavish royal wedding, and they want this so badly. Besides, her father has a black eye and broken arm from the day his granddaughter was born, and he deserves some sort of recognition and thanks. (She knows he feels guilty for missing that moment too, as it is another milestone to add to the lists of important milestones in his daughter's life that he missed and it kills him.) She can't take away this party too.

They end up throwing the party at Granny's, and Emma is half-convinced that the entire town is there. Were it anything like Storybrooke's usual celebrations - after a victory, when everyone is happy to just be alive - Killian would normally be standing to side, avoiding the center of attention. Tonight, however, is different. As he draws attention to their daugher, a look of pride and utter devotion is etched across his face. He boasts about Eliza as she is the most precious treasure to be found, "the real _Jewel of the Realm"_ he says. It is in this moment that Emma realizes that though she is the one who helped set him on the right path and crumbled his own walls, a different girl has wormed her way into his heart with only the effort of simply existing. _It's wonderful_.

The night continues to be mostly wonderful, with friends and townsfolk showering Storybrooke's newest resident with praise and gifts. There is only one hiccup, the moment when Gold makes his presence known that a ripple of tension infiltrates the air, and Killian tightens his grip on Emma's arm. (Some wounds will never heal, and some grudges will never die.)

"I wonder when she will begin producing magic?" Gold is not asking a question when he say this, instead speaking with a tone of aggravating finality.

" _If_ she produces magic," Killian corrects him.

She produces magic.

She sneezes pink sparkles, and when she is in a particularly nasty mood, the lights flicker.

They have their work cut out for them.

Emma understands her mother a bit more now. It takes the advent of Eliza's birth to fully "get" the complexity of Snow White/Mary Margaret, but when Emma holds her daughter in her arms, she finally understands. It's that desire to take in every single new moment with her child, to cherish all of those precious memories that she missed.

She never got all of this with Henry. She has vague memories courtesy of Regina, but they aren't real, as much as her heart aches for them to be. These moments with Eliza, however, are and Emma can't help but revel in them. Her daughter's first smile, the tiny grip of small fingers against her own, the soft coos as she rocks Eliza to sleep, Killian's smile as he holds their little girl. It's all too much and not enough at the same.

It does not mean she loves Henry any less when she clings to these moments with Eliza, but Emma takes an extra step to be sure he doesn't feel left behind. They go to Granny's, drive around town, go to the movies. Do simple things that a mother and son are expected to do. She hedges about girls. He deflects, but she can't help but notice how crimson spreads across his cheeks and the faraway look that develops in his eyes. (So there is someone. But who?) If he feels pangs of jealousy toward his little sister, he doesn't show it. Instead, he busies himself with entertaining his infant sister, regaling her with stories from his book, reveling in playing the role of older brother.

(Henry, like always, was right. This is her happy ending.)

There is something absolutely hilarious (and heartwarming) about watching _Captain Hook_ wear an infant on his chest in one of those front-facing carriers while he moves about on his _pirate ship_. Emma finds it even more adorable when she gets closer, and hears him narrating his actions to the baby.

"She has to learn sometime, love," Killian tells her, a broad, adoring smile on his face, "if your film is anything to go by, she's going to be the Pirate King."

They unfortunately find out that Killian is handy with a sword with a baby strapped to his chest. Emma isn't there when this particular discovery occurs, only arrives for the aftermath at the docks where Killian, Henry, and baby Eliza were supposed to be bonding. Not fighting for their lives. Bonding. Like a normal family.

(Her family will never be normal.)

When she gets there, she sees Killian standing there, sword still drawn. Henry is holding his sister, and that once-adorable front facing carrier has a very distinct slice across one of the straps. On the ground lays a body of something that doesn't seem quite human, and Emma feels like she is about to vomit. (It turns out to be some skeletal pirate zombie, almost right out of Pirates of the Caribbean, because somehow her daughter is cursed to be a fucking movie character and her husband has managed to piss off countless people in his 300 years of life and death.) She feels furious, sick, and scared, her body shaking as her worst nightmares flash through her mind briefly turning to that field of flowers, to the Underworld, to Neverland, and _oh god, someone please save her daughter from this fate._

(Her family will never be safe.)

Emma wakes up in the middle of the night, skin drenched with sweat, groping blindly toward the bassinet near the bed. It is empty, and for a moment panic overtakes her. It is the panic that delays her realization that her bed is otherwise empty, and that she is the only one in room. Logic dictates that Killian must have awaken, taken Elizabeth to another room to soothe her, but Emma's heart is pounding in her chest from the nightmare and she needs to see them now.

She stumbles through the house, the large house that was fulfilling a promise made what feels like so long ago. Even with all of its rooms full, it feels much too large when cannot hear Killian's footfalls or her daughter's cries. Emma is about to call out, yell her husband's name, when she notices the porch aglow and the front door cracked. Killian is standing the yard, Eliza curled in his truncated arm, the other pointing to the stars above.

"...second star to the right and straight on 'til morning. It's a terrible, terrible place. I should know, I spent many years there myself. Your uncle, Liam, died there. I pray you never end up in Neverland, but if you do, you meet it the same way your mother did. She was brilliant. She made me fall in love with her in that hellish place, so it's not entirely bad memories..."

If Killian senses her presence, he doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, he continues to draw attention to the stars, murmuring the names of constellations, almost willing his daughter to imprint to memory. It's a lovely moment, so lovely that she creeps back into the house as to not take away from its beauty.

"It's going to be okay," she whispers to herself, "we're going to be okay."

(They will be.)


End file.
